


King of Beasts: Goat Gets and Lazy Sex

by Homebound_Stranger



Series: King of Beasts [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Homebound_Stranger/pseuds/Homebound_Stranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story where Jack gets it on with practically everyone. There's sex. Humor. More sex. Feelings and minor freak outs. Major freak outs. Cuddles and video games. The works. This is the official filler arc between King of Beasts and English Bird Edition.</p>
<p> There's a reason why sex and alcohol don't mix but it's too late to fix his mistakes now. With throbbing hangovers, angry bosses and one horny-no pun intended-Ram on his plate as well, is there any chance Jack can escape and hightail it to safety in Mexico? The answer is no.</p>
<p>It's the morning after. Deal with it, Kitty-Poo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a long overdue project but it's finally done. Given that I had quite the few fan questions regarding what the tedious morning after had been like, I decided to tackle it. Is there plot? Yeah. Is there drama? Sure. But you know me and what I do. This is mostly just sex.
> 
> Don't act like you don't like that.

He startles awake as 'Anaconda' plays rather loudly by his ear, rattling the old wooden tabletop with it's buzzing until it falls unto the floor. Sleepily he grabs for it, missing once, twice, three times before he grabs it by the charger cord. With closed eyes, he pulls the cell up to himself until he can spy the lit up screen through his eyelashes. The name of the caller he won't care to read is at the bottom, below a picture of a large schnoz.

To be honest, he only needs the picture to tell him who it is that's woken him at an ungodly hour.

Before the call can go to voice mail, he flicks the green 'ANSWER' across the screen. The cell unlocks, playing the sound of moving tumblers, as the phone's screen lights up. He picks up. He hopes he's grumbling sleepily into the receiver or else he's just making noises into the air.

“'llo?'

“Geoff?” a very British voice asks over the line. There's a pause and he figures he's got to answer; he grunts.

“'up 'av.”

He's not using coherent English but anyone who knows Geoff at all is already semi-versed in muffled speech. The caller doesn't need anything else. Confident they're talking to the right person, the voice demands, “Geoff, where the bloody sausages are you? What are you doing!”

“'eeping.”

“Wot?”

“I 'aid 'm 'eeping.”

The line crackles. Yes, it must be too early as the voice lacks patience to try unraveling his words. It angrily snaps, “Speak up, you tosspot! I can't understand you!”

“That's a laugh,” Geoff snorts into the receiver. He's risen his head-god it feels like it weighs a ton-from the pillow and his face already has that sweaty, unshaven feeling. He's nasty.

But he's still chuckling, air whistling through his teeth as he taunts the caller: “No one can understand you 24/7 and you accuse _me_ of being unintelligible!” The voice can only squawk irritably back.

“People understand me just fine! Besides, that isn't the problem here! Where are you right now?”

“I said I was sleeping, Gav. You know, giving my body time to rest and recover? Inviting the Sandman for a night cap? I know you're British but you have to understand some English sayings.”

There's a grunt and a deep, long sigh, the verbal cue of _“Geoff, stop being a little turd right now”._ Tough luck Gavvers, he thinks. It's too early for him to give a shit and pretend to be polite. He'll be a “pisspot” or “mingy little spaff” or whatever fucking third thing Gav calls him if he wants to be. However, Gav surprises him this morning. Instead of insulting him the other man asks:

“Alright. **Where** are you sleeping, Geoff?”

Geoff frowns. That.. is a weirdly stupid question, coming from the younger male. It almost feels like a trick question, forcing him to cautiously answer, “My.. bed? Where else could I be?”

“Geoff,” says Gav. His tone is deep and serious. “I'm in your room. You're not at home.”

“What?”

There's a flutter on the other line, telling him that Gav's wings are probably mussing up in agitation. If that's not an indicator of how panicked the other is, he protests, “You never came home last night from drinking! Ray scared us by saying you probably were dead in a ditch somewhere! I've been texting you to see where you were-where _are_ you Geoff!?”

Geoff is torn between telling him off, telling him to tell Ray off and trying to make sense of the situation when he finally opens his eyes.

He opens his eyes and comes to a significant, if not obvious realization.

“This isn't my room.”

“For fuck's sake, Geoffrey!”

-

Jack has heard stories-stories of people who, when their body naturally awakens, describes being made of air. They easily move from dreams to reality, deeply inhaling the crisp morning before enjoying their first cup of coffee. Those same people claim that anyone can feel this way after a good night's sleep, as long as they take the time to make sure they get the deep slumber they need.

It's clear to Jack, however, that not one of those people are feline hybrids. That's why, instead of greeting the world with a happy smile and a can-do attitude, he'd just like it to go fuck off.

That “magical moment” between being deeply asleep and being awake is never an easy transition for Jack. Instead of having that fantasy-like lightness, his muscles feel like lead. His face is hidden between two pillows, face down, scorning the warm sun coming in through the window's shutters. His tail, the only thing usually active in the morning, thumps irritably on the mattress.

 _No way in hell are we getting up,_ states his lion half. _We're staying right here where it's warm and comfy. We can take a morning off._

The human replies, _We have things to get done today. Get up, please._

_Fuck you, hairless monkey._

_Language, my dear lion._

While the two sides mentally go at each other, the body that is Jack Pattillo remains tuckered out underneath two blankets and a heavy quilt. He unconsciously moves over to a vacant spot that is unusually warm and suspiciously seems to be like a depression in the mattress. That is dumb to think though because he's never shared this dingy mattress with anyone else.

And in his still-sleepy state, he considers his mother and her motherly advice. He recalls her point about the worst fault of a lion hybrid: “Us big cats, we just like to sleep all day. We could, if given the chance.”

With his two sides going at it-for about eight minutes now-he can comprehend the truth in her words. His human half is perfectly circadian-get up at this hour, be in the shower in less than ten minutes. It can be said his human half has life's schedule down to the last millisecond. The feline on the other hand? It would rather give everyone a double-bird and hide away somewhere to get half a day's worth more rest. The only reason it might ever face the sun is to sleep in warm sunlight.

Reasonably, that mindset conflicts with the conscientious human being. And against better judgment, it will politely, if strictly, try to rouse the sleeping beast. That leads to them mentally fighting, then begrudgingly working together to get started with the day. So in conclusion, people will never meet a happy, light-heart Jack in the morning.

But what can he do? He's got a terribly turbulent relationship with his lion half.

After ten minutes, the fight is done, leaving both halves grouchy and Jack even grouchier. His muscles finally feel lightweight enough to move, if albeit slowly from the bed. Jack wakes and sleepily rolls left, closer to the edge of the duvet. As he rolls, a feral grumble rumbles in his throat.

 _Oh shut it,_ he tells the pouting cat. _You're used to this. It's time to get up._ The other, nursing its wounded pride, continues to grumble but cedes control of their body.

His paw pokes out of the blanket's edge, clawed toes wiggling as it searches for flat ground. Following it is the unique hook of his lower leg, the furry cat limb stretching out to reach the floor. Of course, in his drowsy state, he leans too far over and does a spectacular roll off the bed, pulling all the sheets down with him. Despite how mad it can be with him, his lion never lets him get hurt.

No matter how tired he is or how ungracefully he falls there is never a problem. He rolls, bumps and lands on the floor, crouched down on all fours. The bright sight of being a feline hybrid-there's no way he can possibly injure himself by taking a plunge.

He sits there for a moment, not doing anything but staying crouched on his haunches, brain rebooting as his tail sweeps the floor. Then comes along the second bright fact of being a feline hybrid-the sudden itch he gets under his chin is taken care of , twisting his body around to get at it with a few sleepy kicks. His lion and himself reward the relief with a deep, satisfied purr.

His hands, in the meantime, are moving automatically, pawing the floor before hitting the lowest drawer on his dresser. Routine has made it possible to pull open the chest and feel around for a shirt to throw on. His tail, on the other hand, hits against a pair of boxers lying on the floor. He's not prude enough to throw them into the dirty hamper, and too lazy to grab a new pair. Instead, he throws it on too, to cover his uncovered manhood.

Adequately dressed for the moment, he rises onto his feet and sleepily walks to the bathroom, one foot slowly before the other. It's the lion who lets his eyes stay closed. It's an even trade: Jack will keep his eyes closed, feigning more sleep until he's in the shower as long as the lion lets him reach the bathroom. It's a deal that never fails, letting the cat suck up precious seconds of 'rest'.

Of course this morning will be different, very different to ones before.

His ears are already picking up the low sounds of water running, the pipes of his apartment creaking as the liquid is pressured through them. The door to his bathroom is cracked open, lights on, a faint steam seeping through. The cat gives a low, piqued meow.

Jack grunts in reply. _What is it now?_

 _Something or someone is in our bathroom._ His brows knit together to this answer, mind taking a couple of minutes to boot up.

 _That can't be, I live alone. There's no one in our bathroom._ But before he can confirm this, his lion half is taking control of their legs, leading him inside. There's nothing but curiosity driving it to investigate what's going on.

However, both human and hunter will be shocked, deeply so, when Jack opens his eyes inside the bathroom. Before him, he will be greeted with the sight of a very naked, heavily tattooed ram using his shower without a care.

 _Holy fucking Mother Mary, what do I have going on_ here _?_

-

Hot water running down his back is wonderful for soothing the muscles that have cramped up during the night, Geoff signing in relief as the tension bleeds away. Granted, the shower head is not nearly as powerful as the ones in his house-many active housemates require long lasting utilities-but this one works just well enough to get the job done. The drops gently beat away stiffness and little by little, he feels a little renewed and clear headed.

But not enough to, oh say, remember where the fuck he is.

His forehead is pressed against the decorative tile of the shower's wall, teal eyes wide as he tries ordering his thoughts. _Let's see, I said I was going drinking...I went to the usual bar..._ He shakes his head.

 _Wait, no I didn't! I said last time was the final straw right? No Daniels, no customer, that's what I said._ He grits his teeth as he tries to recall what he did even if memories swirl around like a chunky avocado milkshake. _Did I go somewhere else? I must have. I have a hangover so I must have had some drinks, that much is obvious._

But what could he have done to possibly get himself from point A to..wherever this is? Geoff grumbles, his mind drawing blanks. The more empty guesses he makes, the more frustrated he gets. _Great,_ he thinks. _Not only do I have a splitting headache, I've got zero ideas on where I am._

Where Geoff is willing to be a sourpuss, his Ram is differently wired. It will listen, usually half heatedly to his mental berating, offering no help besides a listening ear and the occasional bleat of response. In most cases, it will listen for a few solid minutes before it gets bored; boredom makes it drift somewhere else, maybe into it's own head or a place a grass eater would go. As long as it's away from Geoff's ranting it's fine.

Like all springy animals, the Ram has a sharp sixth sense. Before Geoff can even clear water from his eyes, the horned creature is alert, tensing their leg muscles. The human in Geoff is shocked by the sudden involuntary movement but understands the meaning behind it.

**Something's here.**

That sort of surprise is never well received, by either the animal or the person inside. Geoff jerks and gasps in place, his eyes wildly scanning the steam-filled bathroom for the intruder. His goat is too wise to make a false alarm-there's gotta be something else lurking in the room beyond the shower stall, stalking him on silent feet. Nervous energy coils in his gut. It's not often he's caught in a precarious situation like this but instincts are preparing him for the very worst.

And there! In the thick fog of the mirror, he catches sight of it, a creature made of deep orange and peach and very, very hairy. It's got to be massive, broad shouldered with thick biceps and a towering form. The Ram inside is on the fritz. It can tell better than the human half that the fellow out there isn't a grazer like them. That revelation only serves to make both sides more anxious, especially as Geoff realizes one more fact.

It, whatever it is, is just a few steps from the shower's door. While it may be paused at the moment, as if it's contemplating, he knows it can easily corner him here. Gulping, Geoff looks to the entry with terror. What can he do? Kick it? Headbutt it? How far can he go before it turns and pounces on him?

Dozens of scenarios of the gruesome kind flood his mind as the handle turns, the heavy paw clicking it open. The door is pulled ajar.

“Yello?” says Jack, poking his head in. His eyes seem a more dazzling hazel, a little yellow colored, than their usual brown. Of course Geoff gawks more at the fact he's looking straight at his naked self than at the guy's gorgeous eyes. His hands automatically shoot south to cover himself, scowling at the other.

“Jesus fuck, dude! _Knock first?_ ”

Jack sniffs, his hand rubbing sleep from his eye. “Morning to you too, asshole,” he retorts. “Sleep well?” He doesn't seem to register the look of horror on Geoff's face or more likely, since he wears glasses, he can't see it. How quaint.

Geoff can't help his snark, even if his Ram is currently bleating in alarm that the other is a predator-a big one to boot. “Oh sure, slept like a baby. I feel great besides the splitting headache, great embarrassment and shock of being cornered in another guy's shower stall. Naked, if you haven't noticed.”

A heavy silence hangs.

“You're very cranky this morning,” is all Jack observes. Geoff glares.

“What, did my naturally cheery disposition fool you?”

He really shouldn't be so rude to others, especially a stranger whom this shower belongs to but Geoff can't bring himself to care. He doesn't care. He's mad he can't remember last night, he's mortified another person is intruding on his “private time” and the hangover isn't helping. Thankfully Jack appears to not mind a lot.

Instead, he wastes no time in questioning,“You know how much longer you'll be in here? I have to go to work soon.”

“Huh?” is all Geoff can come up with. Jack squints but doesn't seem too confused.

“I said, I have work soon. I need to shower. What, is it weird I work on Saturdays?” He smirks as he adds, “Or did you think we big cats don't like water?”

Geoff tries to reply-by opening and closing his mouth with no sound-before Jack interrupts him again. “Never mind, is there room for one more?”

“Uh, I guess?” Geoff estimates, looking at the empty spaces around him. He's not going to remark on the flush rising to his cheeks from just the thought of a predator entering the shower. But his answer is enough to get Jack going.

“Good. Just a second, then.” His head disappears and the door closes with a bang. Geoff can make out his form tossing off his shirt and underpants, revealing what must be sizable biceps and a slight tummy.

 _Sweet dicks, am I checking out a predator while using his shower?_ Add another line to a long list of things Geoff didn't think he'd ever do.

This is turning out to be a morning of firsts though, as the bigger hybrid re-enters, devoid of all clothing. It takes all of Geoff's willpower to not look down at the marvel hanging between the others' legs or eye his broad bust carpeted with dark tangerine hairs that thicken into a handsome happy trail. Blood rushes to his cheeks, a faint pink dusting his sunken cheeks as he walks backward into the shower wall, gaze averted from the other.

He can hear Jack's softly purring. The feline no doubt finds the warm water soothing to his skin, washing away the grime of the night as heavy clear drops cascade down his barrel sides and thick legs. Geoff sucks in a breath and tries to calm his rapid heartbeat. It's costing him extra effort to not let his gaze linger for too long and cause all his muscles seize up right now.

He's not going to admit it but he's very aroused. Okay, maybe not aroused: he's actually terrified by the sight of the lion hybrid. Despite the fear possessing, however, the panic is only doing wonders for his libido. Blood is racing in his veins, goosebumps crop up and down his skin-the Ram hybrid is stuck between ducking away in a cold sweat or sticking his tail up for the other to claim him. Would he even claim him, he idly wonders? Would the other notice his terror and ease him, or would something more grisly in nature occur?

In short, the anxiety of not knowing what to do about his growing hardness and what to do with the other is crushing him. Involuntarily his body quivers and he tries to suppress his shaking, to keep his disquiet subtle.

Which of course, is hard for Geoff to accomplish when two large hands are placed on either side of him on the wall, Jack's height dwarfing him underneath the shower of water. He bleats softly without meaning to, his ears pressing against his head. If he doesn't already look jittery, the sound he made verges on the edge of being pathetic. “You alright?”

It's asked quietly, and it sounds almost mockingly gentle coming from a person who looks like he could bench press a small car if he wanted to. Geoff wants to scoff and sarcastically snap; he wants to say, “What, of you? As if kitty” but his voice isn't working right. It comes out sounding more like a whine, low and strangled.

That, plus his hard on is definitely growing. The cooling water isn't washing away the arousal in his gut, so more blood pumps into it, hardening his prick. He's half mortified by the sight of it coming to attention, sliding against his thigh as it raises upward. _No, no, not this, not now. Goddamn it body, why can't you listen for once??_

The water is feeling cold-or maybe that's just him-and he's starting to shake something terrible. He can't help it, he's just afraid. His Ram is afraid and he can't get it to calm down. That's probably why the most unmanly squeak in history is made when an abrupt heat presses against him. It envelopes him entirely and feels too good.

“Hey, hey, calm down. What's wrong?” Jack's hands are running up his back, from the curve of his spine to rub tenderly at the nape of his neck. The Ram knows there are claws to accompany those hands and freezes up even more. “No, no, don't do that. Don't freak out on me. Hey, look at me.”

Fingers tuck under his chin. It's not gripping his stubbly face and forcing him to look up-rather, there's a gentle pressure encouraging him. Millimeter by millimeter, his neck muscles loosen, his sight ascending from the tiled floor to brown, hairy feline legs, to thick thighs, an impressive cock and slight tummy on the abdomen.

His eyes keep going.

Up the happy trail, he can see how the feline fuses into his human half, into a well toned chest with equally trim arms. The deep peach of the skin, reddened from the previous hot shower, is somehow calming to see as it turns into a handsome neck, attached to the beginnings of a tangled, wet beard. But it's when he goes past the nose that he can finally calm down.

Those sweet, hazel eyes that could do nobody harm are looking at him with every care of the world.

All the tension leaves Geoff the moment he meets those warm eyes, the Ram magically pacified by the kind stare of the other. He relaxes-as much as he can with semi hard on still bugging him-in the others' hold, finally able to slow his breathing.

The chuckling he hears only improves his mood. “Good boy,” he hears him say. “That's it. I don't know what got you so wound up like that but you don't have to worry. I'm not gonna hurt you.”

“D-didn't think you could,” Geoff lies, sinking further into the embrace. “You're too cuddly for that, ain't ya?” Jack scoffs.

“Right. Because we're going to both assume you weren't just terrified of me right now.”

“Assume nothing, kitty-poo. That's the plain truth. I'm not the least bit scared of you.” Saying that was probably unwise. The taller male presses an open mouth kiss against his throat-Geoff's breath hitches and his cock throbs painfully between his legs. He can feel the faint outline of sharp, canine teeth bearing down on his flesh, leaving a slight depression in it. But that's nothing compared to the absolutely sinful tongue lavishing his neck with attention, kissing and tasting him in slow, wet licks.

His knees knock together as he buckles, bleating. Fucking _cheater!_

Jack is smiling against him, humming. “Yep,” he drawls, pulling away from the bruised skin. There's a thin trail of saliva connecting the edge of his lip and Geoff's neck, something that Geoff wants to smear off his smug countenance (preferably with a searing make out session). The other is still grinning though, as he observes, “You're definitely not scared of me.”

Passion, while it's always a nice thing to have, really shouldn't be given the reins when someone ought to be logical. And really, Geoff should be reasonable-he's still standing in the shower of a stranger's house, sporting half an erection while letting said stranger embrace and kiss him. Any expert would have told Geoff to get a hold of himself.

Sadly, Passion tramples Reason like shoppers during Black Friday, as Geoff retaliates against Jack. That retaliation is grabbing the other by his wet mane and pulling him down, crushing their lips together.

-

He just needed a fucking shower but obviously, that's not the only thing going to be happening today. Geoff is one forceful motherfucker; he spares no time in jamming their mouths together, his smaller frame melting into him under the shower's spray. He knows the thing pressing against his hip isn't a figment of his imagination-he already knew about Geoff's fear boner the moment he saw it in the mist of the hot shower. But it feels so different between seeing it and feeling it grow even harder, squished between their wet, warm bodies.

Jack won't deny it, it's a fucking nice treat to wake up to.

His own dick is getting interested too, if the faint throbbing he can feel is any indication. This time, there's no strong odor egging him on. No he's just really up for it. It's not common that he has the chance to let go for a night and morning. He'll face the facts: he's a sexually frustrated man.

It doesn't help his lion is already sinking into a wild mode, pacing back and forth within him. Arousal. Mate. Fuck. Claim. It chants that over and over again, and if it could, it yowls when Jack doesn't do anything more than deepen the kiss with the zealous Ram. It wants more than just a sensual necking session. It wants their cock to harden and fuck something, damn it! Not even a brave hand groping the smooth ass of the moaning man is enough.

He has to mentally shush the jittery feline, which is a feat in itself with Geoff suffocating him with kisses. Every few breaths are replaced by a lip-lock, teeth occasionally clashing as they fight for dominance. Maybe it's just because he's an Alpha or maybe Geoff is that nice, that the Ram eventually cedes control. Once all the power is given over, Jack greedily drinks the other up.

Of course their legs start turning to jelly from the lightheartedness of too little air and too much lust, enough that Jack has to press the other against the shower's wall to keep them upright. Geoff groans, his hips gyrating into Jack's. Precum smears between them, wet and all too enticing for the lion hybrid to ignore.

He knows what he wants to do. He prays that Geoff will be all for it.

It takes will power to pull away from kissing Geoff's puffy lips, wincing as he whines, “Come back.” Jack is dead set on doing this though. He kisses the tattooed collar bone, moving down the breast to the pink nub he finds. Wetly kiss one then the other before moving on, keeping the other suspended in excitement as his tongue travels further down, to dip into the cute navel he finds. His rough tongue tickles the thin hair there and Jack swears he can almost feel the thrill Geoff has coiling there. He smiles despite himself.

Geoff is panting above him, his inked hands gripping his shoulders. Jack eyes him once from below, holding the others' flushed gaze, as he sinks onto his knees. He's almost at chin level with the prize he's been looking towards. Of course, Realization of what he wants to do catches the horned fellow two seconds too late.

“ _You filthy bastard_!” Geoff nearly shrieks. His eyes are comically wide as Jack's mouth sucks him in, lavishing his aching dick in a seemingly scorching hot, moist hold. Jack let the head of his cock rest on his taste buds as he gives a few, teasing sucks, looking triumphantly up at the other. Geoff groans.

“Oh you bastard. Oh you filthy, _wonderful bastard_.” Geoff's hands switch from his shoulders to grabbing his head, fingers tangling in his hair. “You asshole, you magnificent dickwad. Fuck you, man.”

Jack hums, earning a hiss of delight from the other. _Funny, that's what you're gonna do, right Geoff?_ But instead of saying that, he settles for bringing his tongue around the shaft, tasting the salty precum fill his mouth and igniting his need.

-

To say Jack is made for giving head implies he's supposed to be a natural at it, something completely untrue that he's not sure how former partners perpetuated it. He knows for a fact he was never good at it in the beginning-there's an incident from high school he doesn't want to remember in detail, about experimenting and accidentally using his teeth. Ouch. But if the few partners and many one night stands have say anything, it's usually that he succeeds in oral. Maybe that's true. A cat's tongue is more special than most, rough but tender on the skin, suited for massaging anything it touches.

It's a trial to keep his mouth open though, to stretch his jaw wide enough so his chompers don't graze the underside of the cock he slides in and out of his mouth. He sucks carefully, slides his tongue over to places he's a little afraid of having be too close to his pearly whites-honestly, rimming is so much easier to do. He doesn't have put a sensitive organ in his mouth where he can bite down by accident.

Yet if he is really honest with himself, Jack knows he likes it. There's just something about controlling the pace with a blow job, letting someone fuck his mouth and taste their sex that really gets him going. The noises that Geoff fails to muffle, as well as the occasional cuss, is music to his ears. His head bobs over the length, wetting every side and teasing under the head, earning a strangled moan.

“Jesus shit, not like _that!_ I'll fucking cum if you do that.” Jack snort through his nose, the air tickling the black hair on Geoff's belly. He sucks as he draws back, tongue swirling around the throbbing dick. “Fuuuuck! You asshole!”

One hand grips Geoff's pale hip, denting the skin as Jack concentrates on pleasing the other, while the other hand roams, sliding up Geoff's furry calf to his thigh and around his ass. The smell of hazelnut is back, growing sharp as his ministrations continue. So it's no surprise when Jack's fingers move far back enough to feel a sticky wetness most definitely not from the shower. He has to pull off to assume a mad, feral grin, the hand on the hip coming down to jerk the bleating Ram.

“Oh, I think you already did, billy goat,” he says, rubbing back the slick around Geoff's hole, feeling the other shudder underneath his palm. “I think I made you cum from here with just my mouth. Jesus, this stuff is like sap. You're dripping a shit ton down here.”

Geoff shakes his head, sweat and water running down his face. “Don't tease me,” he snaps weakly, moving back onto the fingers. His pouting is adorable to Jack, made even cuter by the blush conquering his face. “If you're gonna put your fingers there, you may as well do something worthwhile.”

“Good idea,” Jack answers. With all the slick the other is producing, it's too easy to slip a finger in to the knuckle, delighting in how the Ram gasps.

-

Thoughts are racing out of control in Geoff's head but they run along the same lines: that he doesn't have a single clue as to what's going on, his head hurts like a bitch and hot dang, this feels awesome. Maybe predators are meant to eat his kind after all because the lion is practically devouring him at this point.

Jack's beard tickles his hip as he places kisses along the skin, on canvas that has yet to be inked. His dick is still heavy between his legs, that much is true, though the earlier attention it got has it sated for now. After all, Geoff can only focus on the finger that's hooking into him, searching through the copius slick for the place that makes him see white.

“Ah!”

A place he found in just moments. Through his hazy vision Geoff can see the pearl of a tooth peek out from behind thin lips. “Here?”

He grunts at the innocent question. His knees may be buckling from the sensations assaulting him but he's got enough sense to squeeze a fistful of his orange mane in warning. “Fucking. There,” he bites.

Jack smirks below him. “Did you want me to fuck you?”

 _God yes I do._ The reply that comes out is instead, “Did you wanna fuck me?”

The yelp that Geoff makes is strangled by the groan that tries to come out as well-Jack's fingers work at scissoring him open, turning his muscles pliant as they attack his weak spot again.

The lion is smiling as he answers, “Nah. I think I'd like to make you come like this. No knotting, no fancy stuff.” The omega within Geoff whines pitifully at the thought-it lives to be dominated like that-yet the whole of the ram sighs in relief.

It's bad enough he's allowing himself to come undone in a stranger's house. To let himself be knotted, to be taken in such a primal way.. well, he's not sure his pride can handle it.

Still, it feels strange to be turned around, his hands forced to let go of their anchor. He's facing the tile of the shower wall, the weight of Jack behind him encouraging him to move as close to it as possible. Below, Jack's hand is petting his balls, pulling back and smoothing down the finest hairs on his perineum before teasingly circling around the ring of muscle in the back. He bites back moans, his legs opening up from the caressing touches.

Two fingers slip back in and thrust shallowly. “You're loose,” Jack says behind him, lips sucking a hickey onto his shoulder. The digits begin to scissor, occasionally brushing that sweet spot again. “So loose.”

He's tempted to thrust back onto them but half of him wants to draw out the pleasure for as long as possible. Fuck it if his skin becomes pruned-Geoff isn't afraid to admit he's missed the feeling of someone taking the time to make him feel good. Still, his mouth can't seem to shut up.“You jealous?” he pants, shooting a sly look over his shoulder to meet Jack's face.

The lion pauses, eyes wide and a flush on the bridge of his nose. “W-why would I..?” he begins to say, before Geoff's hand is threading through his beard and pulling him in for another kiss.

Goddamn if he isn't the most adorable man he's met. His cheeks are turning red as Geoff answers: “You know what they say-a loose ass is a well fucked ass. I'm gonna bet you're the one who made it so loose in the first place. Congrats.” Jack groans, burying his grimace into the ram's shoulder.

“Oh my god. You're depraved,” he mutters into the inked skin, drawing a cheerful laugh from the other.

“Says the dude who was sucking my dick just a few minutes ago.” His fingers are still brushing the lion's cheek, his eyes expectant. Little by little he's moving backward onto the fingers still within him, hoping to convey his desire. “Speaking of which, are you going to..?”

Jack's face is still red but he's back to eagerly fingering him, pressing hard onto Geoff's prostate and making him moan loudly.

“I swear to god, I'm gonna lose it if you keep moaning like that.”

“T-then you'd better bring me off, asshole, or I'm gonna keep- **god!** ”

-

It's pretty much expected that for a pair of idiots that were both sexually hung up, orgasm hits too quickly for either one to be satisfied. Geoff whines as Jack's free hand milks his cock, thick white lines streaking the wall. Jack's fingers continue to thrust well after Geoff is spent.

All Geoff has to do to return the favor is knead the ball of his hand into the crotch behind him before he feels the hot, sticky mess spread over his knuckle.

“Dude, are you fucking kidding me. Did you just get off.” The lion shivers against him but Geoff is still in shock. “Was that really all it took? One rub and you're done?”

“Shut up,” Jack growls into his shoulder. The heat of his flush is boiling compared to the cooling shower water. “It's been awhile, alright?”

Geoff chuckles, pushing off the wall and turning in Jack's embrace. He stands on his tip-toes to kiss the hunter's nose affectionately, green eyes twinkling. “Well, you owe me a show then. I didn't even get to see you get off.” Jack utters a whine from within his throat, ears flattening against his head.

“But work-”

“Call in sick,” he says. His tone leaves no room for argument. Luckily for him, there's little protest-mutely, Jack shakes his head. All he can think is what a good kitty he is.

-

The plan is to just see Jack get off once but in the heat of things...

“Oops.”

“W-what?” Jack wheezes. He's shuddering as the last thread of semen is drawn from his cock and over Geoff's chest, the white a stark contrast to the vividness of his tattoos. Obviously, Jack can't see what the problem is. Geoff was an expert with his hands, thumbing his dick's vein and massaging his balls just right to unravel him. So he has to ask, “What's wrong?”

The ram smiles sheepishly up at him.

“I wasn't looking at your face.” Jack pales, eyes wide.

“Huh?”

“I missed it! Again, we got to do it again! I'll watch your face this time!”

“Wha- Why weren't you looking now!?”

“Sorry kitty, the dick was just too impressive. No matter. Again, again!”

-

The next time...

“I can't see shit when you've got **-ah!-** g-got me like this. I-I wanna see your face!”

“You're the one who suggested a double hand job. What the fuck is your problem?”

“I didn't _-Fuck!_ Ah, I didn't think you'd be this good at it!”

“What the hell, is that an insult??”

“Ah!”

They pant together, foreheads touching underneath the cold jet of water, the cascade rising away the stickiness dripping from their thighs. Jack's hazel eyes look at Geoff an immediately notice the frown. “What is it now?”

“I missed it again,” Geoff grouses. “Fucker, you came right as I did.” What a thing to be mad about. The lion sighs as he leans forward, kissing the others lips.

“You sure have a weird way of demanding more sex, you know that?”

“Do you mind?”

He'd be a dirty liar if he ever answered yes. So instead he lock their lips, lets them suffocate on kisses for a bit before responding.

“Again. We'll do it again. I'll let you see my face this time.” Geoff smirks, hands coming up to embrace his shoulders.

“Good.”

-

So the third time..

“There's a great chance I'm going to slip and kill us both of we don't get out of this shower.”

“That is the single, most unsexy thing I have ever heard,” Geoff replies. Jack has him pinned against the wall as they grind, Geoff's legs swung around his hips to trap their dicks between their tough, wet bodies. But Geoff complains, “I thought big cats didn't mind water?”

“We don't but the water is cold and my back is freezing from it. There's also the fact that I want to pound you into my bed right now.” Geoff blinks slowly.

“Those..are some pretty compelling points.” Jack huffs against his collarbone as he sucks another hickey on him. He just can't handle this big cat's attitude, laughing without meaning to. Even as Jack nips warningly on his shoulder, he pats the hunter's back, ordering, “Alright, put me down. You wanna move this to the bed? Let's move then.”

“Finally.”

He can't help adding in a comment as the other carefully lowers him to the ground. “You have a strange way of nagging to get what you want, you know that?” He snickers at the unamused glower he receives.

“You're really asking for it.”

“Oh I am,” Geoff agrees. His tone drops to a smoky, low whisper as he shuts off the shower behind them. “I hope you can deliver, big boy.”

The resulting growl excites him.

-

They hit the mattress, the springs instantly squealing under their combined weight. They both ignore the sheets lying on the floor, how they elbow pillows off the edge of the queen sized bed in their hasty attempts to meld together. Mouths hungrily attack each other, tongues tango dancing as hands caresses any skin they can touch.

Water still drips from their hair and down their bodies, warmed a fraction by the intense friction of their groping and fondling. Nothing matters beyond the other man in front of them. Nerves sing with anxious energy, the core of their guts inflamed with passion. A hunter and his prize are ready to unite in the way their base instincts command them to.

But Fate, as Jack has come to know, is a sadistic bitch. She comes knocking on the figurative door of his life solely to crash the party.

Anaconda starts playing again from the bedside table, the giant nose illuminated on the screen. Jack pauses, hands gripping Geoff's hips as his blurry vision tries to focus on the buzzing phone. He makes an inquisitive chirp as the cell vibrates on the wood.“Hey.”

“Mmm.” Geoff is kissing his chest and up his neck, mustache tickling his skin. Jack tries to bite back the groan that bubbles up as blunt teeth scrape him.

“Hey,” he tries again breathlessly. Geoff isn't looking at him but he continues: “Hey, your phone is ringing.”

“Mmm?” Geoff breaks off for a brief second. His eyes are hazy, intoxicated-like, his pupils blown out so wide he can barely see the rim of teal around them. Like a drunk, it takes Geoff a good solid second or two to understands Jack isn't touching him anymore. With a muffled curse, the ram follows the other's gaze to the bedside table.

The scowl he gives the device is fiery enough that it could melt gold. “Ah fuck,” he sniffs. He cuddles into Jack's side, frowning. “Stupid chicken Brit. Just leave the damn thing.”

Jack's not sure what a stupid chicken Brit is supposed to allude to but he has to ask,“Are you sure?” He wouldn't want to make a matter worse somehow..

His companion only answers him by hooking his arms around his neck, tugging him off balance downward. Their lips crush together, front teeth clacking though it isn't painful at all. Instead, Jack's brain whites out, arousal back in control.

The phone buzzes and buzzes before it stops, going to voicemail. Neither one cares, too absorbed in feeling each other and feeling good.

Geoff is straddling Jack's chest, bent over his large cock and gently licking the tip. The lion purrs, his fingers playing with the others syrupy hole and reveling in the adorable sounds his partner makes when he teases his balls. Then..

_“My anaconda don’t- My anaconda don’t- My anaconda don’t want none, unless you got_ **buns,** _hon!”_

It's a mood breaker, as Jack's eyes flick back over to where the cell phone is ringing again. He's about to comment on it. He wants to comment on it and the funny picture of a large nose blinking at him.

But Geoff's brief threat of, “Answer it and I'll stop” is enough incentive for Jack to forget about it.

Nicki Minaj is left to call for her big keister bitches alone, until the calls goes silent.

At that time, the ram forgoes any more foreplay to bring the entire head of the cat's shaft in his mouth. His tongue swirls around it, sloppy sucking sounds growing louder as he takes more in. Jack groans.

“Fffuck,” is all he can slur out in the midst of pleasure, over the delighted hum Geoff makes.

Two fingers make a counter attack, sinking easily into the pliant ring of muscle. The older gent squeaks but it isn't lost on Jack how he thrusts back onto the digits. How he wordlessly invites the other to keep at it. And boy, does he want to...

Except then Nicki comes back on, sugar daddies and big asses along with her.

“Uh.”

“Fucking. _Ignore_ it!”

So they ignore it. It goes to voicemail without incident.

They rearrange themselves, deepening kisses and drinking each other down. There are no more phone calls to interrupt them. For a little bit, it seems like the world has gone fuck it let's leave these two alone. For a little bit, it seems like they can relax while the world keeps spinning. Everything is perfect.

Fate is still a bitch.

Right as Jack's got a rubber on, Geoff eagerly pulling him forward, Schaffer breaks the calm:

_“Fuck this, fuck that, fuck me, fuck you, fuck everyone here and everybody else too. Fuck off, fuck face, fuck all night long: fuck everything everywhere and **fuck this song!** ”_

**“Fuck!”** Geoff yelps, the sharp of his cuss coming in sync with the filthy rap. The way he barrel rolls off the bed, hand barely snatching the charging cord of phone from the stand is pretty laughable. Jack would have laughed at it really but the crash makes him wince.

He wants to ask if the other is alright but said man is fumbling with the phone, answering the call with a breathless, _“Burnie!”_

The reply is so loud, Jack can hear it from atop the bed: **“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, YOU ASSHOLE!?”**

Like Geoff, Jack recoils from the yelling, ears flattening. The caller has quite the pair of lungs on them as they continue shouting a variety of things through the line, mostly along the topics of “shit head”, “Idiot” and other names a seadog would flinch at. It’s a struggle for the ram to get one syllable in.

“Hey! Listen! I know I didn’t call in after the party. I know, my bad, Geoff’s a shitty friend. We’ll go through our routine later. I just wanna clarify this, though: I didn't go straight home yesterday,” Geoff snaps. He’s waving his free hand around-he’s the guy to illustrate all his words through actions apparently-despite the other person being unable see him. It’s a cute scene for Jack to watch instead.

“I swear I'm fine.” Some silence. “Yeah, Gavin called me earlier. I told him I was fine.”

“..Well, yeah, that's true. I'm okay though.”

“Where?” the Ram pauses. From Jack's position, he can vaguely make out the other turning pale, a empty smile frozen on his face. “Uh...”

Jack frowns. _“My apartment?”_ he mouths to the ram. Geoff nods to him gratefully.

“Oh yeah! I'm actually at a friend's flat at the moment. I got real smashed yesterday so it makes sense I'd crash at his place, you know?” Obviously he's trying to play cool-his mouth struggles to keep the half smirk that’s almost permanently stuck on his face.However well he thinks he acts doesn’t matter in the end; the other person isn't having his bullshit. Geoff pales more as he echoes the other's demand: “ _Who's_ house? Gee, Burns, good question. You don't know him.”

A second passes as the other replies. Geoff’s responding glower could melt a glacier. “You idiot, I do make friends outside of work.”

Another pause, another claim of disbelief.

“Yes, I do! There are people in this world other than Gus and you who can stand me. Asshole.”

Seeing as the conversation is dragging on, Jack lies down his side, willing his erection to calm down. Doesn't seem like their romp is going to continue any time soon so it'd better if it's gone altogether. Yet if Jack focuses his hearing, he can tell a nervous lilt appearing in the Ram's southern drawl.

“Eh? What- Huh? His name?”

Geoff looks alarmed in Jack's direction, face becoming strained. Realization dawns on Jack, cutting through his confusion.

“You're kidding me,” he says to the other. “You forgot my name? How drunk were you?”

“I didn't forget anything,” he says to Jack, pouting. Jack blinks slowly. “Stop staring at me like that, I remember your name!”

Both the phone line and Jack silent as Geoff briefly rifles through his mental drawers, chewing on his lip. It’s two solid minutes of absolute nothing before the other hesitantly offers: “It's.. Jake, right? Jake Patty?”

“For fuck's sake, dude. No.”

The caller can only agree with him, sending a loud, “You fucking dumbass” over the speaker.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack argues with a feline, Geoff is sick and hungover.
> 
> God, is this the best Saturday ever or what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longest delay. Health problems have been getting in the way but I am doing better. If it seems like I'm slow to update, know that I'm not abandoning the story-I'm merely taking breaks to keep my issues in check.

Sex is always a healthy compulsion. No matter if one has a knot or not, it will be that dimension which plays heavily into having a balanced life. The reasons why are obvious. It’s procreational; any offspring born satisfies an animal. It’s recreational as well; norepinephrine, serotonin, oxytocin and all other chemicals are released during the wild, base act. A human that’s sexually wired craves those drug-like feelings. 

Sex, for a hybrid, is one of the few urges that can be fulfilled for both parties at once. No one is left upset in the aftermath about a ruined diet. No one suffers insomnia due to a restless, nocturnal twin.

As Jack’s father once put it, it’s the win/win affair.

_Win/win affair, my ass._

Jack grunts.

...Ignoring the critic in the back, if the parental wisdom isn’t to be believed, then Health 101 can be. That boring class in every American high school is meant teach horny youngsters about their bodies. The how, why and when gets answered and then, for good measure, goes into deep detail about reproduction. Just like good ol’ dad says, there’s nothing shameful or unhealthy about wanting to bang your fellow students. It’s natural.

_But utterly inconvenient._

Aaaand we’ll disregard the critic once again. 

Back on point, Health 101 covers the basics. Health 102, the ‘intermediate’ step, is supposed to fortify the foundations of 101. Structured around the belief of how hybrids can form good relationships with their other halves to become adults, 102 separates the wild from the civilized hybrid. As someone once said, 102 produces the productive working adult.

_Productive as shit on a sidewalk, sure._

….

...And then there’s Health 103. 103, created for those few teens who took education seriously enough to justify taking the difficult course. A course to deeply understand the hybrid mindset and become masters over their animal halves. 

_You never_ did _pass that class, did you?_

The scowl that Jack gives his reflection borders between resignation and a powerful desire to slam his fist into the glass. Granted, the latter action would only harm his hand but it’s the thought that counts.

He’s pretty much death warmed over right now and feels like it too. In spite of the maddening urge, he chooses to refrain breaking his bathroom’s mirror. It would spare his starving wallet anyway.

“If the peanut gallery is done with his commentary,” he starts, glaring into his reflection’s haggard face, “I’d like to be alone with my thoughts.” Mentally he can hear the gentle purr.

 _Well sure, why not?_ the voice agrees. _I’ll leave you be._ But then it pauses.

Jack can feel his body instinctively still. His muscled tail slaps the floor rug in time with the passing seconds. Of course he knows what’s going to happen next. This type of conversation happens far too regularly.

It’s too easy for Jack to picture the cheshire grin the other half adopts as it replies, _Oh wait, I can’t leave. I’m sorry._

“You idiot. You know what I really mean,” Jack tells the reflection. A scoff answers him.

 _Do I?_ Jack frowns. 

He waves his hands at the other him, pushing, “Just ignore me for awhile. Tune me out. Don’t listen to me. For Christ’s sake, just be a cat.” 

The voice in his head sighs. It’s a deep rumbling that sounds disappointed or at least exasperated by the suggestions. _Would if I could. You think too loudly._ Jack rolls his eyes.

Picking up the abandoned clippers from the sink, he gives his beard a few snips, decapitating rogue hairs that have grown too long. His tired eyes look dull and dead in the light, like burnt coffee beans. The deep circles underneath them are ghastly against his skin, waxy but dried out from the morning shower. Honestly he looks like he’s in his early thirties and more like he’s sixty.‘This what I get for drinking so much.’ 

Yet he still manages to keep his glaring white-hot, fixated on the him beyond the mirror.

He snaps, “I don’t think loudly, you just listen in all. The. Time.” He points the tip of the scissors at his other half, adding, “Which you don’t _have_ to, by the way.”

His answer is an innocent meow. _But how can we live with each other happily if we don’t communicate our thoughts?_

“You’re really pushing my buttons here.”

_I do that a lot lately, it seems._

“You do it every single, damn day.”

_I’m not sorry._

Jack sighs. Lessons from 103 are passing through his head but he can’t dredge them up right now. He’ll only remember how he passed with a C.

 _How average of you,_ the lion says. Jack flips the reflection his middle finger.

“American education sucks you know. Plus, If memory serves correct, the reason I never got a higher grade was because I was stupid enough to enter the class with an arrogant asshole.”

_We’re talking about you, right?_

“We’re talking about a fleabag right now. Which one of us, sir, has more fur and fleas?”

The lion growls. It’s that sort of low, warning growl that he’s heard alley cats make over territory and food. They make the sound so pitiful-a lion, on the other hand, makes it sound dangerous. He can feel it mentally pacing back and forth, trapped in the landscape of his mind. 

_No need to be rude, Jack. I was only offering my opinions on your usual, pointless monologues._

“They’re not pointless,” Jack snaps. “And you know exactly why I’m thinking like this.”

 _Do I,_ it deadpans. 

“See, it’s that sort of attitude that makes me think like this. I’m sure any other hybrid could have sex and not feel as badly as I do now.” 

_I can’t help that you put yourself up to useless, rigorous standards._

“Uh, yes, you could. You could try respecting them for once!”

He can feel his hackles raise as the big cat grows more frustrated. The adage of not fucking with a proud lion vague crosses his mind but he forgets it just as quick. It seems he has just the luck to make stupid choices.

_I don’t respect them because I can’t understand them._ his lion half hisses. _We should be happy with our situation. We should be_ relaxing.

Jack is running the comb under the sink’s faucet, shaking his head. “I can’t relax knowing what we’ve done.”

_You’re that disturbed by mating? Does your knot make you sick or something?_

“Hell no. I’m disturbed because I practically accosted a drunk! I-” he stops and corrects himself, snarling, “ _We_ should have known better! Why would we do this?”

_Our charge didn’t seem to mind, yesterday or today._

“He was smashed yesterday. He’s suffering a hangover now. I don’t think he’s in the right place to mind anything.”

But speaking of said drunk breaks the argument between man and lion, as a loud retching sound comes from outside the bathroom. Jack looks to where the door is slightly ajar, as a whimpering voice filters through.

“Jack?” it asks slowly. It sounds like shit.

He braces himself for the worst as he answers back. “Yes Geoff?”

“Help. I threw up. It’s on my pants.”

Oooh boy. This isn’t a good morning at all.

-

One fresh change of pants later, the two hybrids have relocated to the apartment’s small kitchen. Jack tries his hardest not to brush against the other male but as his shitty luck would have it, the hallway to the kitchen is far too narrow. A sober Geoff may have been able to keep his distance but a smarting, hungover Geoff knows no personal space. 

By the time they step on the tile flooring, Jack’s face is flushed brick red, fur standing on edge. 

The bigger of the two immediately sets to work, preparing much needed coffee while the other tiredly crawls towards the small kitchenette table. His face thunks the wood pretty hard, curved horns displacing an empty beer can from it’s spot as he sits down. Jack spares him a pitying smile.

It’s short lived though. His cat senses get him to pull the kettle off the hot plate before Mr. Coffee can beep indignantly at him. His mind sharpens and his attention focuses.

It seems absurd how such a large man can gracefully balance a pot in one hand and two mugs in the other, putting them down gingerly on the counter. Then again, many people don’t have a wiseass in their head to direct them.  
_Take two steps backward. He does. _Lift the tail_ Obediently, the ever helpful appendage obeys, snaking around the handle of the eggshell, single door fridge. _Pull._ The wiry tail coils tightly, tip flicking and alert. It jerks forward._

_The fridge door opens with ease. Jack can’t help making a victorious little grin as he focuses on the next step._

__Turn,_ says the lion and Jack follows suit. His left arm reaches back with the twist of his body, hand blindly reaching back into the heart of refrigerator. He only knows he’s got what he wants when the big cat says, _To the right. There. Grab it carefully and pull it out.__

___A coffee creamer is his reward for listening, all while his right hand diligently starts pouring the rich steaming coffee into the waiting mugs._ _ _

___Let no one ever say that Jack’s part time job as a barista didn’t bestow some sort of truce between man and cat. it’s the only time of the day they’re in perfect synchronization._ _ _

___And this syncing leaves him the ability to focus on his task and shoot an occasional sorry look at the slumped ram. Geoff’s practically molded into the cheap table, unmoving save for his shallow breathing. Jack's courteous enough to fill the bigger cup-Geoff’s cup, he’s decided-near the brim. After all, his guest is probably going to need a lot of brew to get over the hangover he's having._ _ _

____If he can keep it down, that is._ _ _ _

___Shut up._ _ _

___He takes a moment to consider what the other might like in his coffee while stirring two sugars into his own. He’s at a loss. _Might as well drag over what he can,_ says the cat. It’s good advice. Thus he juggles the mugs over to the table, sugar packets in his pocket and creamer cradled in his elbow, before softly plunking the ceramic in front of the other._ _ _

___Geoff barely moves from his slouch over the table, save for a teal eye that blearily studies the mug, then looks up gratefully to Jack. Color still has yet to return to his face but his smile is genuine. “Thanks.”_ _ _

___“No problem,” he assures him. “Figured you need it. Doesn't have any sugar though and dunno if you take cream.”_ _ _

___“Eh, sometimes both; not always. Best if I have it black today, if I'm honest.”_ _ _

___“Really?” Jack lopsided grin grows a little fuller as the other grabs the handle of the mug and chugs down a mouthful. “Dieting?” he inquires, watching how Geoff coughs and grunts, at the scalding brew and additionally, at him._ _ _

___“Nah. I'm fit, in the best shape of my life since the Army. I just have to remind me about how much I hate myself when I drink too much. So black coffee it is then.” A bit of the cafe spills from his lip as he coughs again. He's sneering as he exclaims, “Shit, this burns!”_ _ _

___He’s not subtle at all as he pushes some napkins over and Geoff mutters another thanks, taking one to wipe his mouth dry. Jack smirks. “So I was right. You were drunk last night.”_ _ _

___“I was probably all evening,” he replies honestly. “I had a bit to drink before I went to the bar, had some when I was at the bar and then more afterward. Didn't help we broke out your stash when we came back here to make out.”_ _ _

___Jack raises a brow accusingly. “Just make out?”_ _ _

___“Okay, to fuck like high school virgins. To do the naughty sideways tango, go wild like a Discovery channel documentary and whatever. Point is yeah, I was fucking drunk.”_ _ _

___He takes one more sip of the black brew before setting it down. He barely takes a second to point his finger right at the tip of the others nose. What he warns is, “Don't start.”_ _ _

___“Don't start what?” asks the other. Geoff grimaces._ _ _

___“Don't start claiming you molested me or something, okay? I was buzzed, yes but I remember what happened. I'm shit with names but I pretty much remember events.” Jack’s face is set in a very deep frown._ _ _

___“Really.” Geoff nods, though it’s a slow, almost robotic kind of nod, his eye wincing in pain._ _ _

___“I remember what happened after our little rendezvous at the creek,” he says. The serious look he has been sporting transforms into a wicked grin as he purrs, “Plus, this morning proved _very_ helpful in reminding me what we did.” _ _ _

___The lion makes a strangled mewl, looking away as his face flushes to a salmon pink. “Jesus, you're crude. A blowjob is all it takes to jog your memory?”_ _ _

___“If it's a good one, yeah,” Geoff snickers. “I think I ought to remember someone, even vaguely, if they can give excellent head like that!” Jack groans. He’s delighting in how Jack's face goes through shades of red until it he’s cherry faced._ _ _

___“As nice a compliment as that is,” he argues, “you were still pretty out of it. You're sure you're okay?” He can't help the nervous twitch of his ears or the tapping of his fingers on the table. Geoff only rolls his eyes._ _ _

___“I'm fine,” he stresses. His glare is pointed and scolding over the rim of the coffee mug. “I'm okay, I'm sober and fine. I don't care about what happened. And to be honest with you, do you know what I remember the most from yesterday night? It's how many fucks I didn't give then, like I do now!”_ _ _

___“I get that maybe, in some cases, alcohol ain't the best method to getting laid but I sure as hell can't complain about this. I mean, I slept with a guy who, from what I recall and what I've seen today, is a pretty darn cute gentleman. I got lucky.” He argues, “Out of all the guys I could have drunkenly slept with, I got the least bad guy there is-no, I got a GOOD guy.”_ _ _

___“A good guy?” Jack asks. His look is incredulous with an open, toothy smirk. “You don't even know me well enough to make that sort of claim.”_ _ _

___“But I remember last night,” Geoff stresses. He’s glaring at Jack, as if daring him to prove him wrong._ _ _

___Jack might not like confrontation but he takes the challenge anyway._ _ _

___With his chin supported on his knuckle, he inquires, “What do you remember?”_ _ _

___“Well, for starters…”_ _ _

___**The night before…** _ _ _

___The trek back doesn’t prove to take any longer than the struggle to get their clothing back on, the two drunkenly stumbling through the lamp lit streets. Jack leads the way, Geoff hanging off him like an extra arm as they attempt to retrace their steps without tripping. The whole way, Geoff is yammering away._ _ _

___“That was so much fucking fun dude,” he slurs into the lion’s shoulder, a goofy smile on his lips. His pale cheeks are still blotched with pink and his hair looks even more mussed up than before. But he insists, rather earnestly, “So much fucking excitement in one hour, like whoa. Damn. Ten outta ten, would do again. And..um.. What’s another word for awesome?”_ _ _

___“Mrph,” Jack replies. It’s not so much a reply towards Geoff as it is a verbal response to his shoes scuffing against the concrete sidewalks, eyes focused and glaring at each crack that might undermine his efforts to walk forward. See, regardless that his consumption of alcohol that day is equivalent to zero, his mind is still muddled. The rush of endorphins and adrenaline still has yet to leave his bloodstream. His heart has that erratic beat doing on from the rapid pounding from earlier. There are butterflies in his stomach. He's on cloud nine. In a way, he's super intoxicated._ _ _

___As a sensible person knows, a buzzed mind doesn’t think straight at all. So instead of answering geoff his replies are on auto pilot. Geoff squints at him._ _ _

___“You’re drunk aren’t you.” it’s stated rather than asked. Jack still shrugs anyway._ _ _

___“Mrph.” Again, he’s still not really paying attention to what the other is saying. He’s too busy being mad at uneven pavement and enjoying the fact his sex drive has been sated to actually register anything. But Geoff pokes his tummy, a grin slowly forming on his face._ _ _

___“You are. You are so drunk right now my god.” He makes something between a guwaff and a snort. It sounds hideous. “Jack kitty-poo is drunk off his ass right now, hoo boy!”_ _ _

___To any other person, the drunk man’s cackling would be maddening and probably downright annoying. Strangely, Jack can only think about how much he likes Geoff laughing._ _ _

___“You like it when I laugh?” Geoff asks him. Jack blinks. Strange, how did the other know what he was thinking? Is he a mind reader? Or did he say his thoughts out loud?_ _ _

___“Yeah, you did,” the other answers. Jack frowns, a blush tinting his cheeks._ _ _

___“I didn’t mean to,’ he says. “Damn. I must be outta it.”_ _ _

___“Think nothing of it, kitty,” Geoff replies. “You’re just drunk, is all.”_ _ _

___“I didn’t have anything to drink. I’m sober.”_ _ _

___“Then I must be like wine for you because you’re totally smashed.”_ _ _

___He wants to object to that but as luck would have it, Geoff loses his footing. It's probably just the slight dip the Austin streets have but it's enough to make the ram sway unevenly. With a grunt, he has to put the majority of his weight to his left, right on Jack’s broader frame just to stay upright. Maybe it's the southern gentleman in him but Jack's hand comes around the man’s midsection, steadying him with his large paw. he can see how Geoff pause, how he eyes the helping hand: even if his black nails are shortened, the cat’s keratin maintains an ability to tear through anything. Jack doesn't blame him for being uneasy._ _ _

___He's yet to understand, though, that the ram is full of surprises. The smaller man instantly relaxes against his hand before turning around to face him. It shocks him to see how widely he's smiling_ _ _

___“My hero. What a nice guy.” Jack coughs._ _ _

___“It's uh, it's nothing.”_ _ _

___The grin doesn't fade, not in the least as Geoff leans into his aide. “Don't be modest, you're a sweetheart aren't you?” he noses how collar, chuckling. “I'm so lucky, ain’t I? I believe banged a handsome gent.”_ _ _

___“I believe you're very drunk.”_ _ _

___“You're just too modest kitty,” he insists. “Too modest. Kinda annoying but really adorable. Very adorable. “_ _ _

___“How much did you have to drink today?”_ _ _

___“Ehh, that’s not important. Not important right now.”_ _ _

___They're finally in the parking lot for the bar,many models lined up and quiet in the evening of the day. Jack's old car, a rusty Lincoln Continental, is sitting in the furthest corner of the lot, right in the spot where it’s easy to hop in, pull out and bail. But realization grinds him to a halt._ _ _

___Without so much as a thought about possible future consequences, he asks the inebriated fool: “Do you have a pick up?”_ _ _

___Geoff tilts his head, obviously lost. “Pick up?” he echoes._ _ _

___“You know, someone to get you home. A designated driver.” He stops and then worriedly adds, “You didn’t drive here by yourself, did you?”_ _ _

___“Nah,” Geoff tones. “I walked. I have two legs. Home ain’t very far.”_ _ _

___Regardless of him saying that, the southern gentleman within the ginger is still frettingl. “I’m not sure you’re okay to be walking by yourself. How about a taxi? Can you get an uber?”_ _ _

___The scoff is heavy as Geoff fishes into his pocket. “Sure I can. I can call one up right now, I ain’t that-” and he stops. One glance downwards has Geoff frowning._ _ _

___That can’t be good._ _ _

___“Whoops.” It’s said so casually, without any disappointment but Jack’s gut still sinks._ _ _

___“Whoops? Why whoops? What happened?”_ _ _

___Geoff shrugs. “Whoops as in nope, I can’t call a taxi, man.” The lion intends to make a low, curious chirp, though passing drunks swear they hear something akin to someone choking-violently. The fluffy tip of his tail is flicking side to side._ _ _

___“What's wrong?” he demands, his ears slowly folding back. And while it’s true Geoff is exceptionally sloshed at the moment, the Ram senses the discontent._ _ _

___He give him a genial smile and gently pats Jack’s forearm.“The battery is dead.” Geoff says this like he’s commenting on the weather. Jack gapes at him._ _ _

___“You’re kidding!?”_ _ _

___The ram only shakes his head. “Nope,” he replies. To prove it he hands over the sleek smartphone. It refuses to start despite the goat’s thumb clicking on its power button. “See?”_ _ _

___Jack is still in disbelief. “You don’t carry a back up battery or charger?” The ram shrugs again, only this time looking more sour._ _ _

___He answers, “Sometimes I do. But I wasn’t planning on staying out this late, kitty poo.”_ _ _

___For a split second the predator is about to snap at the other, claiming what could have possibly kept the other so busy when the lion steps in. See, the animal can be smarter than the human. In this case, the alpha lion merely puts in,_ _ _

____Wasn’t it you who kept him?_ _ _ _

___Jack falters, uttering a soft, “Oh.” The flush and adrenaline are rushing back to him, alongside the many vivid images of debauchery. Debauchery that he can definitely say he hadn’t expected the lazy-looking game hybrid being capable of. Still, the late evening is on his side because the drunk can’t see his intense blush._ _ _

___Instead, throughout the whole mental affair, the ram is musing about his own predicament. He’s rubbing his chin thoughtfully as his moustache twitches._ _ _

___“If my phone’s a bust,” he mulls slowly, “Then walking is my only option. ‘s ai’ght, I remember the directions. Mostly.” He shrugs, happy with that plan. Jack doesn’t share that optimistic feeling._ _ _

___Before the ram can turn around and take two steps toward his destination, Jack’s hand is already shooting forward to clamp down on his shoulder. “No. Just... No.”_ _ _

___The drunk turns his head to scowl. “What the fuck dude? Leggo.”_ _ _

___“No.”_ _ _

___That word makes the other growl, his head dipping to show off the curve of his horns. Any other hybrid would be treading carefully around dangerous weapons like those. The King of Beasts doesn’t fear anyone._ _ _

___He has the sense of mind to raise his hand in surrender, explaining himself: “I’m not going to let you walk home by yourself in your condition.” Geoff probably has some choice words but Jack interrupts, “You can barely stand, the way you are now.”_ _ _

___“So what do I care?” the ram mutters. He looks sort of silly, with a hand on his hip and a finger jabbing at Jack’s nose. He counters, “What are you gonna do about it, kitty poo?”_ _ _

___Jack sighs. He knows what he has to do. It's probably not the best idea a bit why not?_ _ _

___Turning on his heel, his hand digs his keys out of his pocket. He rounds the trunk of his car to the driver’s side, unlocking it and slipping inside. Leaning over to the passenger’s side, he looks to where Geoff is still standing, looking a little lost._ _ _

___“Get in,” he calls, pulling up the passenger’s lock. Leaning back into his seat, he continues, “I'll give you a ride home.”_ _ _

___Geoff exchanges confusion for pure, unfiltered glee._ _ _

___“Really? Fuck yes!”_ _ _

___-_ _ _

___With day finally giving into night, the winds around Austin relent too, humid temperatures dropping to tolerable, almost delightful degrees. It’s peaceful, even if the city is still alive with activity. As Jack drives down the streets, it’s like the world has agreed to take it easy and slow tonight. It’s great._ _ _

___“No.. no. It’s not here. Damn, where was that turn?”_ _ _

___Or it would be, if his current passenger wasn’t so upset._ _ _

___It seems the negative side effects of alcohol have finally kicked in; Geoff’s eyes are blearily trying to scan the signs and road names, looking more confused as each one passes. He knows what’s going on but still has to inquire: “You alright?”_ _ _

___Geoff groans, head balanced against his knuckle. “I’m either fucking losing it or something. We took Guadalupe.”_ _ _

___“Yep.”_ _ _

___“Turned on Water.”_ _ _

___“Uh-huh.”_ _ _

___“Then we..” Geoff blinks. Blinks again and his eyebrows begin to knit. “What did I do then?”_ _ _

___“I don’t know. What did you do?”_ _ _

___He watches the other scrub his eyes roughly with his palms. “I don’t know,”Geoff groans. He looks outside miserably, eyeing the buildings that go past. “Everything looks different in the dark. I can’t remember which way I took to the bar.”_ _ _

___“And it’s not because you’re smashed?”_ _ _

___“Shut up.”_ _ _

___Jack does feel bad though. He’s not even thinking when he blurts out, “‘Is alright. You can crash with me.”_ _ _

___The ram perks up, staring owlishly at him. “Huh?”_ _ _

___Huh is right. He’s not sure what he’s saying it but his blathers on. “You can crash at my place tonight. I’ve got room. Maybe when you’re a bit more sober, you can remember where your house is.”_ _ _

___He stops when a thought strikes him, making him smile. “I also have an extra charger at home. You can try using that for your phone.”_ _ _

___It would be reasonable for any person to take an offer like his with suspicion and unease. But any person isn’t Geoff Ramsey. He only laughs, beaming at Jack as he replies, “Goddamn I did bang a gentleman! You’re my knight in khaki pants.”_ _ _

___“That sounds less complimenting than you think it does.” Geoff shrugs, sitting back against the seat._ _ _

___“A compliment is a compliment. Take it or leave it, kitty poo.”_ _ _

___With a new destination in mind, Jack maneuvers the old car around blocks of stores and apartments, towards the place where his own den lies. The drive is in a comfortable silence. While Jack steers, Geoff takes to sprawling in his chair, looking out into the dotted sky and smiling._ _ _

___To be honest, a part of Jack is surprised. From the occasional glances he can steal out of the corner of his eye, he sees how boneless Geoff’s become. His ears are level and his neck is lax-the drowsy, happy look in his eyes confirms his ease. Really it’s puzzling how comfortable the other seems, even jovial he can be right now. That small part of Jack wonders if the ram even remembers who he’s sitting next to. Thus his lion, ever a helpful being, quips,_ _ _

____He’s a gullible quadruped._ _ _ _

___“Shut up,” he bites, gripping at the wheel. Geoff aims a bemused face at him but Jack’s too busy chiding his other half. “Don’t say stupid things. You’re a quadruped too.”_ _ _

___Geoff’s still looking at him funny as the lion rejoins, _ _Yes but this one is a cloven hoof. Those aren’t the smartest stock.__ _ _ _

___“That’s completely mean and untrue, you arrogant hairball.”_ _ _

_____Well I__ never._ _ _

___“Who.. are you talking to?” Jack finally snaps out of his reprieve to meet Geoff’s confused but interested stare. He momentarily stutters as he fishes for a reasonable answer._ _ _

___“I was..” he begins and bites his lip. “You see, I was talking to..um..” It’s very difficult to explain the situation without seeming like a lunatic. But somehow Geoff softens in understanding._ _ _

___“You argue with him too, huh?” Jack’s ears raise at the question._ _ _

___The ram waves his hand as he nods, his grin never faltering. “I have those moments too,”Geoff says knowingly. “You know, when I argue with my other half over stuff. The animal half. They think something and you gotta tell them how dumb they are. You get what I’m saying, right?”_ _ _

___Jack slows at the next stop sign, looking over at Geoff with concern. “Yeah, I do. I’m probably weird though, openly arguing with it.”_ _ _

___Geoff shrugs. He replies, “Dude, I think we all cuss at our animal sides when nobody else is there. They do and say stupid shit. Hell, mine does it all the time.”_ _ _

___“Really?” Jack asks._ _ _

___“Sure. I dunno what you fight with your guy about but the stupid goat will never let me eat a hotdog in peace. He’s fine with me chowing down on a burger or something like that but he draws the line at hot dogs.”_ _ _

___“Does he know hotdogs aren’t made from goats?”_ _ _

___“Hell if I know. He just hates hotdogs. He’s also got a terrible streak of standing on things for a long time.”_ _ _

___“..What?”_ _ _

___All that the other offers is a strange face, mouth pulled into a tight line as he sits back. “He’s the reason I’m banned from the Devil’s Tower in Wyoming.”_ _ _

___There’s a pause, as Geoff’s ears prick and his eyes widen. “Like right now,” he adds. Turning to the window, he asks, “How much longer ‘til we get to your place?”_ _ _

___“Uh, just another turn and we’ll be there.” He can help but put in, “why?”_ _ _

___“Because the horny bastard just woke up from his cat nap and is ready for round four.”_ _ _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff proves his inebriated self is pretty darn great at recollection and Jack has to make a decision. Or: "In the words of the late Leslie Nielsen, I am serious. And don't call me Shirley."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't stand seeing this unfinished so I've decided to update. Wasn't completely happy with this but I figure it's polished enough to share. With this done, English Bird Edition and Cat-astrophe are next!

They crash into the bed in a cacophony of moans and hissing groans. Limbs web with the others’, locking together joints while they scrape their fingernails against sweaty skin in a desperate need for more. Lips bite and suck any expanse within reach; brave hands roam every curve and dip of their bodies, searching for pleasure and riding any fabric that dares to get in their way. 

They’re melding and coming apart, time after time, gasping for breath. There’s a heat building between them that is scorchingly white, too much to handle but they find themselves wet after every kiss, only hungry for more.

Ample amounts of sharp raspberry and earthy hazelnut create a concert dedicated to Passion, their senses too wrecked to try thinking beyond the next minute, the next step in their dirty dancing. Time is centered on feeling: the animals within are alive. Wild. Each is feral for the other, commencing a new type of hunt for control, for love, for lust.

Slick has ruined his underwear, seeping through the seat and staining his pants but Geoff can't bring himself to care. He can’t do much of anything really, as he dry humps his partner’s leg. What little brainpower he keeps is trying awfully hard to keep his and Jack’s lips stitched together. Jack's no better off: his claws are creating small lines of pink on Geoff's back and thighs. They’re nowhere deep enough to draw blood yet they’re enough to mark. Mark _his_ mate.

Their kisses are deep and suffocating, sending their minds to a higher plane. They’re a couple that's dying without permanent death, an experience too difficult to explain and far too real to be written off as a dream.

In any case, Jack is a little too focused on peeling off his partner’s underwear, his blood boiling as he notices how the cloying slick sticks the fabric to his shivering, pale skin. The patience the ram has left is threadbare, his hands coming around Jack’s to help him slip the boxers down faster. More hazelnut bursts into the air and sends shivers of pleasure down Jack’s spine. 

He knows what’s coming and goddamn, he’s eager for it.

Because finally, _finally_ the head of Jack’s cock is slipping past that loose ring of muscle, catching on the rim every other thrust. Each thrust causes Geoff to grunt, his hand on Jack’s shoulder squeezing. 

He doesn’t mean it to sound so uncomfortable but today is catching up with him; the ache and sting of being fucked raw a few times haunts his lower half. But try as he may to keep quiet, to keep his lips pursued with his teeth, squinting back a tear, he still draws attention. The big cat recoils enough for the human to step in and kiss away the salty water.

“H-hey. Look at me. You alright?”

Geoff is hissing, his arms hooked around Jack's neck as he sits in the others lap. “Hot,” he whimpers, nosing his shoulder. How to speak more than two words is lost on him in the moment, but he manages to beg, “Too hot, too hot. Need it, knot me.”

The words are encouraging.He kisses Geoff again, his voice low. “I will. I promise. But are you okay?” The ram shakes his head.

“Hot,” he whimpers again. “Hurts. It’s hot.” Jack frowns.

Rummaging in his drawer has revealed he's out of contraception and he has no idea if the other is on therapy. And to hear it’s hot and hurting? “Geoff, try to listen to me. You're not near your cycle, are you?”

Geoff shudders. “Finished two weeks ago,” the other stammers out. His eyes are glazed, glassy teal blue looking right through Jack’s concerned face, as his mind tries to work through the arousal. His struggle is obvious in his voice as he continues shakily. “I-It feels like it. It hurts. I'm off heat but-but it feels. It feels l-like it.”

As if he’s possessed, Geoff yanks the other down with an unreal strength, his back hitting the mattress with a dull thunk. Jack’s eyes are wide as he towers over Geoff’s prone form, the one beneath him shouting, “Fuck me! I can’t take it. Either fuck me or do something to get me off!”

It may seem like Geoff is being aggressive for no reason but there’s a reasonable explanation for it. Jack realizes it as the lion inside of him purrs.

_A fake heat,_ it tells him. _The poor Omega is suffering. Wonder how long since he’s been fucked properly by anyone?_ Jack wouldn’t know.

Fakes are caused by the lack of regular coupling. Call it a withdrawal of the worst kind, the sort which locks up all parts of the body with need and agony, making mincemeat of the strongest wills. Simply put, it’s a terrible thing.

Jack can sympathize with him, perhaps on a different level. His tender muscles are sore from swelling so often in one night, even if the nutty slick is a warm, comforting feeling on his knot. It's a fulfilling yet slightly painful experience, one he’s finding himself craving more and more for. But something inside him, besides the cat and beyond himself, is telling him to finish what he’s started.

So he gently kisses away the creases of pain on the others face, his strong arms hugging Geoff against his chest. He can feel the shivers and haggard gasps against his breast and knows Geoff can’t last much longer.“It's alright, we'll take this slow,” he tells him.

He melds their bodies together one last time, loving how the moonlight from the window can afford him the chance to see Geoff smile. “Stop me if it hurts,” he warns.

Geoff’s hand threads through his mane, the fire in his wet eyes revitalized. “I will.”

And when it does, if only slightly, it seems like nothing a few tender kisses can't fix.

-

Jack’s face is beet red, starting down at the coffee before him. True, he had challenged the other to recount the night before but he seriously hadn’t anticipated… well…

A pretty darn erotic recount of their sexual encounter. That’s probably why Jack is mentally snarling at his dick to not get hard or he swears to God, he’ll castrate himself. Meanwhile, Geoff is looking a little perkier now-the brew must be reviving him somewhat-as he looks triumphantly at the other.

“Should I go on?” he asks the other. Jack shakes his head.

“N-no. You’ve made your point.” He really has. While his lion purrs contently from the story, Jack is brushing his fingers through his bangs and contemplating the best way to die from embarrassment. He has to admit though.. “I didn’t think you were that lucid. You drank what, a few glasses of whiskey at the bar?”

“And more at the party beforehand,” Geoff reminds him. He shrugs. “I have an impressive tolerance for alcohol, man.”

“Probably an equally impressive or possibly dying liver too.”

The ram flips him the middle finger. “Don’t be fucking rude, kitty-poo, I’ll have you know it’s in tip-top shape. I may drink a lot but it’s not THAT terrible.”

Regardless of that defense, Jack is shaking his head. “You know you had more than that; we drank after our...” he pauses, turning a bit pink, “ _encounter_.” Rapping his fingers on the mug’s side, he adds, “I remember drinking here with you. You thought it was appropriate to ‘celebrate’ and I needed something to take the edge off.” 

“But I got horny again like, an hour later,” Geoff says with a shrug. “You weren’t up to it though so we just gave each other a handjob.”

Jack blinks, his mind blank. “Did we?”

“You don’t remember that? How drunk _were_ you?”

“How drunk were _you_?” Geoff opens his mouth to reply but, in a moment of clarity, snaps it shut with a frown.

“You jerk. Anyway, I’ve told you what I remember.” Geoff stares down at him. Jack can’t help but think it’s like being stared down by a small dog: you think it’s cute but you have no idea how much damage it can do to your personal belongings. Because of that he’s a little concerned, slumping in his seat as Geoff challenges, “Now are you going to question my opinion of you?”

Feebly, Jack starts, “You were drunk-” before being cut off by Geoff’s loud, exasperated sigh.

“For fuck’s sake dude, can you let that go!? I’m fine! You’re fine! We’re both fine!” Angrily he sits back in the chair, glowering darkly at the big cat. “I was drunk but I have no problem and i think the guy I banged was a gent. Can we let it go!?”

The lion finally pipes up, adding his two cents: _I think he’d like it if you let it go._

“Shut up.”

Geoff eyes him. “Excuse me?”

That dangerous tone of voice makes Jack think twice as he corrects himself: “Oh, sorry, not you. Uh. I meant _him_.”

Geoff gets it, his face momentarily clearing up. “Oh. Him. Gotcha.” 

_I’m right here, you know._

Jack can only sigh, “Like I said, you don't even know me. Say what you will, that you had a nice time-I’m flattered really-but you don’t even know the first thing about me! You can’t go around proclaiming I’m a good guy _just_ because you thought the lay was excellent.” 

Geoff gives him a frown. “You’re a little prone to self-depreciation, did you know that?”

“If I am, then I am. But that doesn’t change a thing.” He stresses out as best he can, through his teeth as he warns, “You don’t know me.”

But those words have the opposite effect than he’s intended. As if it's a magic phrase, Geoff answers: “Then I'll _get_ to know you. I'll get to know you inside and out and prove I'm not wrong.”

Jack blinks. “Huh?” he replies.

Geoff's rolling his eyes again but it seems a bit more cheerful. “I meant what I said, dummy. I'll get to know you in the best way possible. We'll date each other.”

Sputtering does not cover what Jack does, his eyes going wide as his ear flip back. “Surely you can't be serious?” he blurts. 

Geoff frowns. 

Jack backpedals with the force of someone not trying to run over a kitten. He tries, “I mean, you're going to just decide this off the bat?”

“In the words of the late Leslie Nielsen, I am serious. Also, don't call me Shirely.” With a smug grin, the ram adds, “I don't see a problem with this, do you?”

“Well, you could've asked me if I wanted to date!” he snaps. Normally he’s more collected than this but Geoff is impressive with how he can pull out the extremes in Jack. “You know that's what you're supposed to do, to see if the other person is into the idea!”

“Ooooh,” is all Geoff replies.

It's that sort of low, long kind of “oh” that insinuates the other has it all wrong but he gets it now. He nods knowingly, finger rubbing his chin and Jack can feel his gut drop before he detonates the bomb. 

“I get it. Just a spur of the moment decision, right? You'd prefer this as a one night stand?”

Jack's tail slumps with the rest of him, eyes widening. “I...” He bites the inside of his cheek and looks away.

“I never said that.”

He can feel Geoff leaning over, asking, “Then you don't want a one night stand?”

“I.. don't know?” He really doesn't.

He expects the other to get irritated, to tell him off or to make up his mind already. But Geoff…

He should’ve known by now the other is anything but normal. His hand has slid across the table, clasping on top of his. His gentle voice asks, “What do you really not want, Jack?”

It’s a simple question but the other still clarifies it for him: “It’s your choice. Whatever you really don’t want in life, answer about it honestly and we can work from there.” A first step, yes, yet the kind he really needs.

Is there anything anyone doesn’t really want? For the King of Beasts, he ought to have every desire filled-that is the romanticism surrounding the feline hybrid. But Jack can answer honestly that isn’t what his life is like now. So before he can really think about it, he’s automatically saying, “To be alone.” He’s surprised, maybe more than he should be. I don’t want to be alone again…

With Geoff’s thumb gently caressing his knuckle, he hears him asking, “Then say, with me being okay with it, do you want to give this a shot?” Geoff chuckles as he adds, “Benefits aside, I think we could make something pretty darn cool.”

He should really say no.

Everything is telling him so. He really should just tell him no.

He should just drop everything, let Geoff leave his apartment, go to work and forget this ever happened. Better yet, he could skip work, pull out his life savings and move to Mexico. That would be an excellent way to avoid his problems, right?

Of course there’s that small part of him that argues that running never solves anything. It’s also the same part of him that got him into this mess, that green-lit having sex with a (mostly) drunk ram. Therefore, Jack is having the hardest time listening to what might actually be useful advice.

On the other hand, Propriety and Humiliation are chanting in time of how good he’s fucked up. You just _had_ to let go for once. You just _had_ to fuck this up. Way to go, Jack Shannon Pattillo. Way to fucking go asshat. Really, them ganging up on him is the worst in his mind. The range of other emotions are a jeering crowd, giving into the mob mentality that the first two establish.

So it’s in this chaos of his psyche that he can’t sense something getting frustrated and then roaring in anger. The loud, almost thunderous sound sends a wave of silence over the other voices. 

His lion has intervened his thoughts to snap some wisdom at him: _For fuck’s sake, don’t be a pussy, Jack._

Ironic little shit.

Which is probably why, despite all the reasons not to, he says, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Geoff echoes him. He says it while his eyes are locked onto Jack’s, not once breaking away.

Jack can’t feel anything at the moment, the shock of his own answer giving him an out of body experience. But he knows his head is nodding. “Okay,” he answers. “Okay. Alright then. Yeah, let’s do this.” 

He can’t believe how unsure yet determined he feels when he sets his back straight, looking Geoff dead in the eyes. “Let’s date.”

To be honest, he expects something like a hum of approval, a smile or something else to show how pleased Geoff is with him. Anyone else might do that. they’d probably pat his back and tell him he’s made the right decision.

Geoff, obviously, isn’t like that. So while Jack waits for that approval, all the other does is stand up. the lion’s sweatpants are hanging dangerously low on his hips but one tug at the drawstring is enough to get them to tumble down.

And show off his impressive hard-on at face level to the other.

Jack gapes. His lion hums in delight.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” he sputters. Geoff, pants-less, only grins.

“This talk was pretty damn depressing, so I’m gonna upgrade the mood. Hence, celebratory blow jobs.” Jack gapes at him.

“Celebratory what-the-fuck now?”

Pointing at him with a shit-eating grin, he says, “ You heard me. Anyway, I given you drunk head-you haven’t seen what my sober head is like yet!”

Jack flushes, even if Jack Jr. is up and saying good morning to the world. Goddamn it, what did he get himself into!?

_A very rewarding situation._

For fuck’s sake, shut up!


End file.
